


O' Christmas Tree

by TenRoseForeverandever



Series: These Two Hearts [11]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Christmas Tree, F/M, Fluff and Crack, Foreplay, House Hunting, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Love, Mild Sexual Content, Pete's World, Romance, sexual innuendo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-09-29 15:49:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17206289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TenRoseForeverandever/pseuds/TenRoseForeverandever
Summary: The Doctor just wants to provide Rose with a glorious Christmas tree, one worthy of her, but things don’t quite work out the way he would like.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hanluvr (Bria)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bria/gifts).



> Written for Hanluvr as part of the Fangirlia Secret Santa, using the prompt: _House-hunting (with plenty of room for a tree!) for Tentoo x Rose while the TARDIS is growing._ I also used the 31 Days of Ficmas 2018 prompts: _Tree, shopping, caroling (loosely!)_ from doctorroseprompts on Tumblr.
> 
> Darling, I hope you enjoy. The rest is yet to come, but my muse has been giving me fits and been very stubborn about this fic. The scaffold is in place, but the bricks and mortar are having trouble sticking together in just the way I would like. As a result, I’ve decided to post in several smaller chapters, so I could get something to you before the December 31st deadline. Merry Christmas, luv! I think the two of us have been down this road before... more than once! LOL
> 
> Many thanks to my brilliant betas mrsbertucci and rose_nebula. You’re always there when I need you. (((hugs)))
> 
>  **Chapter Summary:** After a cheerful evening of Christmas shopping, Rose comes home to her building to find a trail of debris and damage leading to her flat, where her angry landlady is beating on the door.

* * *

Rose danced along the pavement, singing Christmas carols to herself. Shopping bags swung from her mittened hands and the snow crunched merrily under her feet. Soft snowflakes drifted down around her, glistening in the streetlights.

All was right with the world.

In just a few days she would be celebrating Christmas with the love of her life, their first Christmas as a married couple. Well, married in traditional human terms. She and the Doctor had been bonded in Time Lord fashion, telepathically linked, since before Rose had first been trapped in Pete’s World. Their bond had been duplicated in her part-human Doctor, along with all the original Doctor’s memories and thoughts.

Last Christmas had been full of excitement and celebration. The Doctor had surprised Rose by proposing to her on Christmas morning. Her mum and Pete had been aware of the Doctor’s intentions for several weeks, as he had asked for their blessing. In true Jackie Tyler fashion, her mum had decided to transform her annual New Year’s Gala into a huge engagement party, complete with an official announcement to the press. “Bleedin’ paps. They’re like vultures, they are,” Jackie had reasoned. “They’ll stop at nothin’ for a story. Best nip it in the bud and not let rumours get started. And believe me, once they see that ring of yours, there’ll be nothin’ but rumours and gossip.”

From that moment on, even after their wedding in September, Rose and the Doctor’s lives had been exhausting as they tried to evade the relentless press. Pete had been forced to establish a top-level security perimeter in the neighborhood around their flat for a short time until the Doctor could cobble together some simple perception filters for him and Rose to wear everywhere outside of home, Torchwood, and official functions.  They hated the restrictions but recognized the filters were a necessary evil; wearing them meant Rose and the Doctor could live their lives with relative normalcy, like making it possible for them to do things like going Christmas shopping after work and walking home in the snow, singing carols.

“… _I just want you for my own. More than you could ever know. Make my wish come tru-ue. All I want_ _… for Christmas…_ ” The notes of the cheerful Christmas tune died on Rose’s tongue as she crossed the street and approached their flat. The snow on the pavement in front of their building looked as though it had had something large dragged through it, and pine needles and twigs were scattered everywhere. The trail continued up the front steps and in through the front door.

Rose’s heart sank. All was _not_ right with the world.

As she turned her key in the lock and stepped into the little lobby, she winced at the fresh gouges on the doorjamb and door, and at the porch lamp dangling by its wires. She opened her bond with the Doctor, probing along it gently to assess his mood. A jolt of panic returned to her along their connection, and at precisely the same time, she heard the sound of a fist pounding on a door and the angry shouts of their landlady, Mrs. McGrath, from somewhere a few floors above. She didn’t doubt for a moment whose door Mrs. McGrath was beating on…

Rose followed the path of debris, damage, and wet patches of melted snow down the hall and up the stairs, all the way to the third floor (the top floor) where the flat she shared with the Doctor was situated.

Sure enough, old Mrs. McGrath was standing in front of their door, hands on her hips. “Doctor! I know you’re in there, skulkin’!” she barked in her light, Scottish brogue. “I’ve had it with ya, ya great dunderheid! This is the last straw; do ya hear me?” She pummelled her fist against the door again. “Och, I ought ta skelp ya!”

“Mrs. McGrath! Mrs. McGrath!” Rose switched off her perception filter as she rushed toward the enraged elderly woman. She was tiny, but she was fierce, a force to be reckoned with. Her steel-grey hair was tied in a kerchief, and she wore a floral apron over a heavy dress that looked as though it had been made from repurposed curtains.

“Ya better be able to explain this! Ye’ll be payin' for all the repairs?”

Rose felt very small under her piercing blue gaze. She nodded, a sigh trickling over her lips. “Of course. As always. You never need to worry about that.”

“An’ I won’t be worryin’ about it ag’in! Yer oot! Evicted! As of right noo!”

“No! You can’t!”

“I most certainly can, and I will!”

Rose stood up tall and took a step toward the landlady. _Might as well be assertive. At this point it can’t hurt… much._ “On what grounds? Surely you need to give us warnin’s and such before you can evict us.”

Mrs. McGrath closed the distance between them further and shook her finger directly under Rose’s nose. “Don’t ye gimme yer cheek, _Mrs. Noble_.” (Rose didn’t miss the omission of the “Tyler” portion of her surname.) “I have a list as long as my arm of all the damage tha’ great wean of yers has caused in the two short years he’s lived here: explosions, electrical fires, water damage, strange odours, the broken countertop. And noo…” she gestured to the detritus covering the floor in front of their doorway, “…this!”

Rose tipped up her chin defiantly. “And we covered the cost of the repairs every time, but–”

“As well ye should’ve! And, jus’ so we understand one another, for your information, I have given _him_ plenty of warnings, _in writing_. When that toaster caught fire last month, and we needed to evacuate the building, I told him it was yer last chance.”

“I never saw any warnings…” She and the Doctor were going to have words over this. What had he been thinking, not telling her something that important?

“Well, they were given, and I dinnae care who your faither is, it’s time ye flitted! Yer ta be gone by th’morra.”

“Tomorrow! That’s impossible, and, besides, it’s nearly Christmas!” Rose fought the tears prickling her eyes. “Please, Mrs. McGrath,” she grabbed the woman’s hand, squeezing gently, “please, can’t we talk this over. Come, have a cuppa. I made some Christmas biscuits, this morning…”

Mrs. McGrath stared stonily down at the hand Rose had wrapped around hers and huffed.

“Sorry…” Rose let go of Mrs. McGrath and fished her keys out of her pocket. They clinked together cheerfully in the awkward silence as she fumbled to unlock the door. “Please… just come in, yeah? I’m sure we can work this out.”

There was a muffled (manly) yelp from inside the flat as Rose swung the door open. She gaped at the sight before her, and rapidly shut the door again, blocking Mrs. McGrath’s view of the disaster within. She plastered a smile across her lips and turned to face the landlady. “On second thought, why don’t we–”

“Och, yer no gonna pull the wool over these auld eyes, lassie.” Mrs. McGrath’s expression was nothing short of triumphant. “I think I’d quite fancy a wee fly cup and a biscuit, after all. And, I hafta say,” she narrowed her shrewd eyes at Rose, “I’m deid keen on seein’ what yer hidin’ behind that door.”

* * *

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just when Rose and the Doctor are celebrating having finally bid good night to Mrs. McGrath, disaster strikes, and their situation goes from bad to worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year everyone! I hope it’s off to a great start for you all! 
> 
> This chapter uses the _31 Days of Ficmas 2018_ prompts: _Tree_ (of course… every chapter in this story will), _presents_ , and _holiday baking_ (Christmas biscuits, which were baked by Rose behind the scenes, are spoken of!) from _DoctorRosePrompts_.
> 
> I am eternally grateful for the support and brilliance of my wonderful betas, mrsbertucci and rose_nebula. The typos, duplications, and omissions just kept coming on this one! LOL Please keep making me better, darlings! That being said, I made some final fiddles, but all mistakes are _always_ on me anyway.

* * *

“What the hell were you thinking?!” Rose barked at the Doctor as she flopped down on the sofa. She’d just seen Mrs. McGrath out the door, with fervent promises of repairs and reimbursement, and most importantly, significantly greater levels of self-restraint from the Doctor in the future. She congratulated herself on how calm she’d been able to remain throughout the evening as she’d worked to pacify the irate woman and convince her not to toss her and the Doctor to the kerb. She’d even managed to get on relatively friendly terms with the landlady, plying her with biscuits and tea. But now, Rose’s patience had worn very thin. She closed her eyes to the sight before her and rubbed her temples to stave off the headache she could feel beginning to throb just beneath the skin.

“Oh, now you’re siding with that old besom! Bloody brilliant!” The Doctor stood across the room, amid tree branches and chunks of wall board and plaster, arms crossed defensively over his chest.

“Doctor, there’s a great, honkin’ Christmas tree takin’ up more than half the lounge, an’ the only reason it’s able to stand upright is ‘cause it’s being held up by the hole it made in the ceiling. You’re lucky it didn’t go through the roof too. Not to mention the damage you did to the rest of the building, gettin’ the bleedin’ thing up here. I’d say the _old besom_ has a fair point.”

As she’d been speaking, the Doctor had stuffed his hands into his pockets and his plaster-dusted fringe had wilted over his face. “I wanted to surprise you…”

Rose told herself she wasn’t going to cave; she was going to remain firm. “Well done, then!” she snarked, her headache intensifying. “Mission accomplished.” Then she looked into his sad, puppy-dog eyes, and felt her anger and frustration melt away, the pressure between her temples easing. She understood he was restless, struggling against the restrictions of using perception filters and the boredom of living a linear existence, stuck in one place and time. “Doctor, you can’t just–”

“I know. All right? I know!” His hands flailed wildly, now. “I just wanted you to have something special for Christmas. Something worthy of, weeell… you. Then the compression field malfunctioned – that, _that_ is the last time I use Dar-Feelgian tech; they’re a dodgy lot; can’t trust ‘em – and weeell, you know the rest…”

“Why use a compression field at all? Why not just get a smaller tree? Honestly, the old tabletop tree we have in storage–”

“You deserve better than that manky, old thing!”

“Oi! You proposed to me in front of that manky, old thing! Just last year! And then, that fucking brilliant shag, our engagement shag… Let’s just say, I have fond memories involving that tree.”

The Doctor’s eyes glazed over momentarily. “Hmmm, yes… some _very_ fond memories…” He shook himself out of his stupor and continued, “I suppose the manky old thing had its good points. But, honestly Rose, you deserve the best! After days spent defending the ungrateful inhabitants of Earth and fending off the paps, you should be able to come home to a magnificent tree! A magnificent tree for a magnificent woman!”

Rose goggled at him. “Magnificent?!” She choked back her laughter when she saw the sincerity in his expression. _Is that how he sees me?_

“Yup! Magnificent, brilliant, splendid, superlative–”

 “Impressive?”

“Oh, yes!” he rumbled, a sexy smirk upon his lips.

Rose’s breath caught in her throat, arousal stirring within her, and all traces of her former headache vanished. “And here I thought _you_ were the impressive one.”

“I _am_ very impressive. But you… you take the cake... the Christmas cake, that is. Sweet and tasty.”

“Is that so? C’m’ere, my sexy Santa.” She beckoned him to join her on the sofa, teasing him with the tip of her tongue at the corner of her smile. “You’re my favourite Christmas treat, too, you know. I think I want a taste of your… Yule Log.” She giggled out the last two words but managed to collect herself enough to flutter her eyelashes and lick her lips in what she hoped was a seductive invitation.

By the stunned, slack expression that came over the Doctor’s features, she had succeeded. “Oh, Rose Tyler…”

“That’s Tyler- _Noble_ , if you don’t mind.” Rose glanced down at the bulge straining the front of his denims, then flicked her eyes up to meet his, and found them blazing with desire.

“Oh, I don’t mind in the least.” He waggled his eyebrows and lunged toward her, shoving branches aside, desperation written across his face.

In his rush to get to her, the Doctor’s foot caught on a branch, and then everything seemed to happen at once. He launched into the air, landing face down with a heavy “oof” at Rose’s feet, next to the tea table. Seconds later, the trunk of the tree ground across the floor, destabilized by the force of the Doctor’s foot on its large, lower boughs. Rose froze in horror as the tree began to fall toward them, the upper portion, concealed in the attic, further ripping open the hole in the ceiling and spraying bits of plaster in a shower over the Doctor’s back.

An ear-splitting crack from above had the Doctor rolling toward Rose, grabbing her hand, and dragging her over the back of the sofa. With a final, terrifying snap the tree-top broke completely through and the tree crashed onto the floor, crushing the tea table beneath it.

Heart pounding, Rose peeked up over the sofa, watching with wide eyes as the branches quivered and finally stilled. “Holy crap!”

“I’ll say!” The Doctor still clung to her with the hand he had used to pull her to safety. It was hot and sweaty, and she could feel his pulse twitching rapidly against her wrist. “Are you all right, love?” He turned to her, running his hands over her head and down her body, looking for injuries.

“I’m fine; I’m fine! You?”

“Oh, don’t worry about me. I’m right as rain!”

“Do you think McGrath heard the crash?”

“Can’t imagine she could have missed it, to be honest. You don’t think she’ll be back do you?”

“Nah,” Rose spoke with a good deal more conviction than she felt, “I reckon she’ll have had enough of us for a while.”

“I’ve got to admit the feeling’s mutual. She frightens me. Properly frightens me! Speaking of… are you _sure_ you’re all right? That was–”

Rose grabbed the Doctor’s hands. “That was… that was… Wow!” She felt so exhilarated, alive, recharged after months of frustration, having to watch every step, hiding from paparazzi.

“Oh, yes!” He yanked her toward him and drew her into a glorious snog. Her body quickly returning to its earlier aroused state, she sucked his lower lip into her mouth and plunged her hands into his hair, plaster dust spraying everywhere. She was vaguely aware of him tearing at the buttons of her blouse, unhitching her bra. Suddenly, his lips were leaving a trail down her neck and over the top of her breasts, his breath hot and heavy against her skin.

She let herself sag back onto the floor, and he followed her down, tucking a pillow under her head. When she tugged the hem of his jumper, he took the hint and knelt up to pull it off, followed quickly by the T-shirt he wore beneath it. He grinned down at her as she tugged his denims open, and she reached in, stroking his hard length through the fabric of his pants. He groaned, gazing down at her with lusting eyes as he rutted against her palm.

Then suddenly his hips froze, and his head jerked toward the door.

“Allo, there! Are ya aw right? Aw, fer Gawd’s sake…!”

The Doctor stood up abruptly, his denims falling down around his ankles, and Rose scrambled to her feet beside him, gathering her sheer blouse across her chest.

Mrs. McGrath stood in the doorway, gaping at the sight before her. “A might ‘a known! Firs’, the entire buildin’ shoogled, an’ t’wasnae a mys’try why, wi’ tha’ great bloody tree in ma ceilin’. So, I thought, mehbe I should look in on ye, make sure yer aw right. An’ I heard all yer greetin’ an’ moanin’. Thought ye might be injured fae it fallin’ on ye. But–”

“Naw… we’re fine,” the Doctor chirped, running his hand through his hair. “All good. Right, Rose?”

Rose looked helplessly at him and then to the dumbfounded Mrs. McGrath. “Yeah… really good. All safe, yeah.”

“’Ere a was, thinkin’ ye were deid, an’ instead, a find ye muckin’ aboot be’ind the settee, goin’ at it like a pair o’ randy wee bunnies.”

“Weeell… we weren’t _going at it_ , per se…” the Doctor protested.

Rose vehemently shook her head in agreement, unable to formulate a single rational word.

“Didn’t really get the chance,” the Doctor continued. “Was just getting to the good bit when you–”

 _What the hell?!_ Rose whacked him on his bare arm, letting go of her blouse in the process.

“Are the twa ae ye aff yer heids?” Mrs. McGrath fumed. “Pull up yer breeks, ye great wean! An’ you, lass, cover yer breests, fer cryin’ oot loud!”

The Doctor scrambled to pull up his denims and Rose yanked her blouse back across her chest. She motioned with a thumb in the direction of her room. “I’m jus’ gonna get changed outta these work clothes, yeah? Would you like another cuppa, Mrs. McGrath?”

 _What? What? WHAT?_ The Doctor’s voice erupted in her head, and she jabbed him with her elbow in the ribs.

Mrs. McGrath looked up at the ruins of her ceiling, at the huge tree sprawled on the floor before her, and finally at the Doctor hurriedly pulling up his zip. “Aye…” she rolled her eyes and released a defeated sigh, “another cup would be grand. A’m tha’ puggled!”

“Right, then, come take a seat.” Rose quickly did up the few remaining buttons of her blouse and came around the sofa to help the traumatized old lady step across the top branches of the tree and drop down into a comfy chair. “The Doctor’ll have that tea ready for ya in no time,” (she ignored the strangled sound from her husband) “while I go change my clothes.”

“Right ye are, hen. Thank-ye.”

As Rose trotted off to the bedroom, she stifled her laughter at the landlady’s next words to the Doctor: “Och, yer quite a fine, braw lad wi’ yer shirt aff. A hafta say, a’m quite surprised. Ye always seemed like such an auld skinny-ma-link, ruckle-o'-banes. Noo, ma Donald, och he was a bonny, braw fella when he was young…”

 _You owe me, Tyler,_ the Doctor grumbled to Rose over their bond. She figured he was probably scrambling to pull his jumper back on after hearing Mrs. McGrath’s accolades.

With a chuckle, she sent him an image of her running her hands over his bare chest. _Hoots mon!_

_No don’t… don’t do that. The awful Scottish accent, I mean. (It’s even more awful in your mind.) But I do rather like what you’re doing with your hands…_

_How about this, then?_ Across their bond, she pictured him naked and cupped his balls, giving them a little squeeze. _Ma fine, braw laddie…_ A shrill yelp came from the kitchen.

“Are ya aw right there, Mr. Tyler-Noble?” Mrs. McGrath called out.

“Never better,” the Doctor squeaked. “Would you like some more biscuits with your tea, Mrs. McGrath?”

“Och, if it isnae too much trouble, aye, another o’ them wee biscuits would be lovely. They’re quite nice.”

Rose mentally patted the Doctor on the bum. _Ma guid, braw mon._

\--ooOoo--

“Good night, Mrs. McGrath! I’ll call my Dad. I should imagine we’ll be able to have someone in by tomorrow to get started straightening this place up.”

“Right ye are! Cheerio, hen!” the old lady called back as Rose shut the door behind her for the second time that evening.

She blew out her cheeks. “Blimey! I better give Dad a bell right now, an’ see what he can do. He’s not goin’ to be happy, right before Christmas.”

“Rose, I’m sorry… so sorry.” The Doctor grabbed her hand, stroking her thumb with his.

She pressed a kiss to his cheek as she drew her mobile from the back pocket of her denims. “I love you, you daft thing,” she reassured him as she dialed Pete Tyler’s number. “These are the things that make life worth living–

“Hey, hiya Dad!”

“Blimey!” Pete groaned at the other end of the line.  “You sound awfully chipper… What’s happened? You never call just to chat.”

“Erm...so, here’s the thing…”

“Love, jus’ tell me quick. Get it over with, yeah, like ripping a plaster off.”

Rose was accustomed to making her reports to Pete at Torchwood succinct but informative, and she decided to use the same strategy to report the disaster the Doctor had left throughout their building that evening, figuring the familiar format would put him more at ease.

“You’re in luck,” Pete told her, after she had finished. He was familiar with the Doctor’s track record for accidents and incidents both at work and at home and had taken the news in stride, despite his earlier trepidation. “I have a huge favour to call in with one of my contractors. He should be able to help me out and have people there first thing in the morning.”

“Really? Aw, thanks so much, Dad!”

“No worries, love. Now, the first thing _you_ need to do is pack some clothes.”

“Pack some clothes?”

“Well, you won’t be able to stay at the flat while it’s being worked on. It sounds like there’s a fair bit of damage…”

“You could say that…”

“You’ll stay at the mansion for a couple of weeks.” He wasn’t asking.

“At the mansion…?” Rose looked over at the Doctor who was pulling faces and making urgent signs of disapproval, with his hand slashing across his throat.  She had to admit she didn’t disagree with the sentiment. The prospect of running interference between her mum and the Doctor was not the way she’d intended to spend the next few weeks, but there was little else she could do. She’d never hear the end of it from her mum if they chose to stay at a hotel. “I suppose we’ll be coming over for Christmas supper anyway…”

In the background, the Doctor mimed gagging and flopped onto the sofa, feigning a dramatic death. He sent Rose a mental image of a charred turkey, smoking away in the centre of her mum’s dining table. Rose snorted.

“You all right there, love?” Pete prompted.

Rose gathered herself together. “I’m good, I’m good.” She shooed the Doctor away with flicks of her hand. _You brought this on yourself, you know!_

“Great! Jackie and Tony will be thrilled to have you stay for a while. And I will too. We miss you around the house. Hey! Tell you what, why don’t I have my people bring that tree of yours over here? We don’t have one yet. Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve and we can spend the evening decorating. How about that?”

“Sounds brilliant! If we’re lucky, it might just fit in _your_ house…”

“That big, eh?” Pete chuckled on the other end of the line.

Rose sighed. “Don’t get me started…”

“Well, don’t you worry. We’ll have everything sorted in no time.”  

“Oh, Dad, I forgot to say. I kinda promised Mrs. McGrath some new carpeting… for the entire building. It’s been needin’ replacin’ for a while now… If you can’t...”

“Done! And a fresh coat of paint throughout the common areas of the building, too. Our Christmas present to the old soul. Let her know to have a list ready of any issues she needs dealt with – plumbing, repairs and whatnot – and I’ll see to it they’re attended to.”

Rose squealed. “You’re the best! Mrs. McGrath’ll be so grateful!”

\--ooOoo--

Later that night, as she packed for their extended stay at the Tyler mansion, Rose watched the Doctor prepare the baby TARDIS for transport. The little coral was growing exponentially, already almost too large for her latest tank. “Well, Mrs. McGrath was right about one thing…”

“What’s that then?”

“We’re going to have to move… soon! Our little girl, here, isn’t so little anymore. She needs more space to grow. It’s not fair keeping her shut up in this flat. What happens when she gets as big as that tree out there?”

“She’s been working more on creating a transcendental pocket around herself. It’s just not very stable yet.”

The TARDIS sent a sorrowful whimper to both Rose and the Doctor.

“Oh, sweetheart, no! Don’t worry!” Rose stroked one of the little being’s coarse branches. “You’re such a clever girl. You’ll get it sorted, and in the meantime, we’ll be looking for a new home, big enough for all of us.”

“And, don’t forget... with room for a proper (magnificent!) Christmas tree!” the Doctor reminded her, beaming.

Rose stepped up to him, wrapping her arms around his neck and placing a firm, sensual kiss to his lips. “Yeah, that too, ma bonny, braw mon. That too.”

* * *

 


End file.
